


on a high note

by caeos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Guitars, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Sickfic, Singing, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caeos/pseuds/caeos
Summary: Oikawa catches a cold, he's pretty certain of exactly the medicine he needs.





	on a high note

**Author's Note:**

> me, sitting down to write for my wips: ...  
> my brain, uncooperative and chanting: no writing, only drabbles!!

Oikawa was bundled up so tight he felt like a swaddled child, sweating up a storm in his heavy wrappings, making him lose whatever fluids hadn’t already been balled up in tissues and tossed in the general direction of the trash can. Part of him thought Iwaizumi had only cocooned him up to pin down his wily arms which had been latched about his waist for the past four hours. Though, to be fair, he was _dying._ He was allowed to be a little needy.  
  
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, voice muffled against the scruff of his hoodie. He’d pulled the tassels taught and was bearing an eerie resemblance to E.T as his puffy cheeks and red nose poked out of the fabric. “I’m _dying._ ”  
  
Iwaizumi strummed a chord on his guitar distractedly. “I heard you the first time, babe.”  
  
“You’re neglecting me,” he mumbled, pouting as though the force of his distress might persuade Hajime to raise his head from his current task.  
  
“I’m quarantining you,” Iwaizumi corrected, grimacing as he played a bum note and doing a double take as he finally looked up at Oikawa. “Oof, you look like trash.”  
  
“No different than usual then?” Oikawa laughed humorlessly, trailing off into a hoarse cough as Iwaizumi rose to his feet in concern.  
  
“You must be feeling bad if you’re agreeing with me-" Brushing Oikawa’s fringe aside he set the back of his palm to Oikawa’s forehead, tutting again as he brought it away sharply. "Fucking hell, Tooru, you’re burning up, you should have told me!”  
  
He seemed _mad_ , like _he_ was the one who was ill or something. _So mean to a man on his deathbed._  
  
“I did,” Oikawa replied, sticking his tongue out as Iwaizumi stood again, topping up his tea and manoeuvring the duvet to free up his boyfriend’s entrapped arms. _Big mistake._  
  
As Tooru sprung free, those arms latched about Iwaizumi’s shoulders and pulled him down against the mattress, his other limbs coiling about him like a constrictor. Hajime huffed in defeat, allowing Oikawa to nuzzle his stubble across his jawline like a cat, knowing full well he’d be glowing red either way by the time he managed to free himself.  
_Although_ , Hajime thought, as the vibrations of Oikawa’s content hum ran warm through his ribcage, he’d definitely left Oikawa with some more dubious stubble burns since they’d started dating so he supposed he’d earned this. Let Oikawa and his baby face have some fun whilst he was too exhausted to be clean-shaven.  
  
“Let me go,” Iwaizumi said as Oikawa finally stopped his assault on his boyfriend’s face, tucking himself under Hajime’s chin.  
  
“No.”  
  
“If you let me go I’ll get you an ice pop.” Oikawa peered up at him, face paler than Iwaizumi had ever seen it, his faint freckles the only splash of colour other than his red and irritated nose. But at the mere mention of a sweet treat - one that didn’t make him want to curl up fetal or slump headfirst over the toilet for a few hours - his eyes lit up like Christmas.  
  
“What flavour?” He asked cautiously, not quite ready to release his prize, fingers pressed up under the hem of Iwaizumi’s sweatshirt and strumming absentmindedly across his stomach.  
  
“Orange,” Iwaizumi answered, piquing his boyfriend’s interest and feeling that iron grip lessen. “Obviously.”  
  
After a moment of grumbling is hands fell away entirely. “You may leave.”  
  
“Thank you,” Iwaizumi teased in a tuneful tone, escaping Oikawa’s grasps and shaking his head fondly as he curled himself about a pillow instead. “Hey, look at me.” Tooru turned his head reluctantly, blinking a little at the harsh light.  
  
He’d called Iwaizumi the previous evening, he was home alone and nursing the worst cold he’d had all year - naturally Iwaizumi had come around within the hour. They hadn’t been able to settle in bed, Oikawa tossing and turning and - on occasion - crying before Iwaizumi had taken out Oikawa’s guitar.  
  
He’d bought it in around fourth grade as a way of throwing his hat over the fence in learning to play, hoping the financial investment might motivate him to play. It did not.  
On the other hand, Iwaizumi had been enamoured by it and the way Tooru lit up when he’d play, it was one of the few times he was ever fully silent and still - perfectly content as Iwaizumi would strum out some haphazard tune. That’s what motivated him to play, watching Oikawa kick back, eyes fluttered shut, and just _listen_. It was enough to make him fall in love - and it did - along with some other trifling factors along the way.  
  
Despite being wide awake when Iwaizumi had arrived, Oikawa had been stretching and yawning the second he dug out the guitar from where it was stuffed at the back of Oikawa’s wardrobe. Like a reflex it had been lights out the moment Iwaizumi strummed lightly against the strings, the music barely filling the space about them, meant for only Tooru’s ears.  
He’d played until Oikawa’s breaths steadied, no longer wheezing through his congested nose, then he’d set the guitar aside and crawled into bed alongside his sickly boyfriend. He knew he’d catch whatever Oikawa had regardless, may as well have a good night's rest.  
  
Now here they were, Oikawa looking all too helpless as he gazed up to Iwaizumi through bleary eyes, nose twitching as he sniffled.  
  
“You want some cream for your nose?” Iwaizumi grimaced just looking at it, this cold had really done a number on his boyfriend.  
  
“Yes, _mom_ ,” Oikawa drawled, burying his face out from the light into the plush of his pillow.  
  
Iwaizumi just laughed, turning on the bedside lamp and hitting off the main lights so it wasn’t so rough on Oikawa’s headache. “Don’t be an asshole, I can’t bully you when you’re ill.”  
  
There was some mumbled response from his bedraggled boyfriend but Iwaizumi couldn’t catch it, gently clicking the door shut behind him as he jogged downstairs to fetch his orders.

By the time Iwaizumi returned Oikawa was snoring soundly, thankfully more of a purr than a grating whine. Hajime just shook his head, endeared, sitting down at Tooru’s desk to finish the popsicle himself, tracing the juice with his tongue as it melted down his fingers in the room’s tropic climate.  
  
When the lolly was finished, fingers licked clean of all sticky residue, and scrolling through his phone had lost its charm Hajime turned to the guitar. His fingers worked over the strings with featherlight movements so as not to wake the sleeping form mere feet from him, matching the pace of his music to the rhythmic rise and fall of Oikawa’s chest.  
After a while, Tooru stirred, Iwaizumi stopped playing for a moment to see if he’d settle back down again but as he roused fully he merely continued to diligently pluck the strings as Oikawa’s bleary eyes settled on him.  
  
Oikawa stretched, words drawn out in a satisfied whine as he spoke. “You were playing in my dream too.” Iwaizumi hummed and Oikawa watched him curiously, clearly not discontented with his inadequately short nap. “Why don’t you sing, Hajime?”  
  
He’d spoken so softly, voice free of the crackle from his cold, that Iwaizumi almost thought he’d imagined it.  
  
“What?” Iwaizumi replied, cringing as a chord fell flat and he flailed to correct it.  
  
“Your voice, mmf-” his voice was broken off in a moan as he arched his spine, back cracking with his movements, trailing off into a soft murmur. “I wanna hear your voice.”  
  
“You’re hearing it now, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi exhaled a laugh, aware of the red creeping up the back of his neck as Oikawa, with laboured movements, wheeled Iwaizumi’s desk chair to his bedside.  
  
“I really don’t feel well, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s voice was soft, lacking all humour, as he sunk sadly back into his array of quilts and blankets.  
  
“I know,” Hajime replied, cupping Oikawa’s cheek and raising his limp head far enough up off the mattress to dab a bit of moisturiser on his dry nose as Tooru twitched at the sensation.  
  
He was practically asleep in his hands as Iwaizumi set him down on his back, stacking his pillows behind him to keep him elevated. Whining only slightly and settling as Iwaizumi pushed his fringe aside and pressed a sweet kiss down on his forehead.  
Oikawa wrapped a hand loosely over his neck before he could pull away, catching his lips with his own. The kiss was brief, Oikawa chapped lips pressing against his own before he collapsed against the bed again, utterly exhausted.  
  
“Iwa-chan,” it was a half mumbled jumble of syllables, as though it was all Oikawa could pry from his dry mouth. “Sing for me. Please.”  
  
Well... he’d probably be too delirious to remember anyway.  
  
It was more of a hum at first, so quiet that Oikawa couldn’t catch the lyrics, only the sweet tune that rose and dipped in tandem with the guitar. Then, once he gained confidence, he could place the music and hummed along languidly himself before slowly being lulled back to sleep. Iwaizumi continued until the end of the song, the sight of his ill boyfriend soundly asleep the only applause he needed. After setting the guitar down, he slipped under the covers, already certain he’d be waking up with a sniffle of his own.  
  
Never mind. Maybe Oikawa would sing for him too.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr!](https://ccaeos.tumblr.com/)


End file.
